Chapter 2 - Departing Stormskeep
Robert watched as the three airships disappeared into the clouds as the rising sun cast its light over the smoldering ruins of Stormskeep’s lower city.
“The horses!” Alice cried, bolting down the white stone steps.
“Wait, Alice!” Robert shouted. “There may still be orcs in the city!” But she didn’t respond. He ran after her, passing a massive wooden battering ram that had been left discarded along the grassy slope beside the keep’s stairs.
“Hold up, you two!” Varg called from behind as Robert heard the heavy thud of his boots giving chase.
“Me too!” Oswin shouted, following after them.
At the base of the keep’s long white stairwell, Robert stopped briefly to catch his breath and take in the devastation at ground level. The city was unrecognizable. Along the main street that stretched toward the gates, shops lay in ruin, some burned to ash, others shattered by explosions, their stone walls reduced to scattered rubble. The pretentious statue of the late King Henry, once standing proud to greet all who entered the city, now lay toppled across the white stone road. Its head had been severed, a final insult from the Orc invaders, Robert thought.
The master blacksmith’s shop, the one who had given Robert a free breastplate and the same man Robert had accidentally killed with his barrier spell, was sacked. The outdoor forge still simmered faintly as its last embers died out. The doors to the small shop beside it hung open, armor pieces scattered across the ground. The place looked like it had been looted by the Orcs of anything worth taking. Robert sighed, the weight of guilt heavy upon him for the poor man’s death.
Robert tore his gaze from the ruined shop and followed the narrow cobblestone path after Alice toward the keep’s stables, where they had left Carrot, Killer, and Persephani the day before. He prayed the Orcs had left them unharmed, though the devastation around him made him brace for the worst. Along the way, he passed two charred Orc corpses lying across the path, likely slain by the townsfolk as they retreated into the keep, he thought. Maybe they let the mounts loose before they fell back, at least he hoped.
When Robert reached the stable, relief washed over him. Alice was there, arms wrapped around Persephani’s neck, tears streaking her soot-stained face. Carrot and Killer stood off to the side, nibbling at a pile of dried hay. In the center of the stable lay the burned and battered body of an orc in black armor. Its full helm had been crushed inward, the head still trapped inside.
“They made it!” Robert exclaimed as Varg ran up beside him.
“Well, I’ll be,” Varg laughed, walking over to Killer and patting the horse’s neck. Alice was whispering softly to Persephani, though her gaze flicked toward Carrot with a suspicious look.
“Everything alright, Alice?” Robert asked.
“Yes...” she said, her voice uncertain.
“Carrot!” Oswin shouted as he arrived last into the stable. “My dear donkey, what a wonderful blessing it is you made it!” the jovial enchanter cried as he hurried over to the unassuming animal.
“What in the gods happened to this poor sap?” Varg exclaimed, bending down to inspect the dead orc.
“The blacksmith’s hammer, maybe,” Robert replied, eyeing the crushed helm.
“I guess so,” Varg muttered as he rummaged through the scorched pouches around the orc’s waist. He pulled out a small red vial and held it up while Robert leaned closer to inspect it.
[Potion of Thorns - For a short period of time, this potion reflects damage dealt to the user’s base health back onto the attacker.]
“Very useful for someone like yourself, Varg,” Robert said. “For how much damage you end up taking in a battle.”
“Indeed, good priest, indeed,” Varg replied, placing the reddish-orange vial into a small pouch on the back of his leather belt.
Robert walked over to Carrot, giving the donkey a gentle pat on the head before unhooking his waterskin from the saddle. He took a long drink, realizing only then how thirsty and hungry he was. The chaos of the raid had buried those simple needs beneath the constant adrenaline and fear. Taking another swig, he pulled an apple from one of the saddlebags and sat on the wooden bench just inside the stable entrance to rest his feet.
He glanced around the large stable as the rest of his party checked their gear and counted what little rations they had left. Robert took the quiet moment to reflect on his many level-ups since the raid’s end.
Level fifteen to twenty-one, he thought. Still far behind the others, but... I can’t deny it. I’m excited to see what fate has in store for my next skill selection.
[Random Skill Allocated - Select One Below]
[Option 1: Holy Shield - Temporarily envelops the target in a shield of holy radiance, slowing the acceleration of foreign objects passing through it. Higher levels of this skill increase both the duration of the shield and the strength of the deceleration effect.]
[Option 2: Basic Heal Upgrade - Upgrades Basic Heal to Greater Heal. Greater Heal restores the primary target’s health and also heals the nearest party member in close proximity. The secondary effect does not target unpartied allies.]
[Option 3: Buff Intelligence - Temporarily increases a target’s Intelligence attribute by 5. Higher levels of this skill increase both duration of the buff and attribute bonus provided.]
Robert studied his options carefully. Another chance to improve my heal spell, he thought, but I’ve been severely lacking utility in battle. His mind replayed flashes of the recent fights, too often he had been stuck on defense, his spells limited and his options few while all those around him fought for their lives. Not enough tools in the workshed to be useful in these dynamic fights, he thought.
Buffing Intelligence would be nice if we had more casters, he thought, but Holy Shield... that’s practical. It could protect the group from arrows, spells, even blades. And unlike Holy Barrier, I wouldn’t be locked in place while casting it.
Robert selected the new spell and stood from the wood bench, gripping his staff.
[Skill Acquired: Holy Shield (Level 1)]
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He pointed his staff toward Oswin, who was sharing an apple with Carrot. The tip of the staff glowed white, and a soft radiance surrounded the enchanter’s form. It resembled his healing magic, though this glow lingered instead of fading.
[Skill Leveled Up: Holy Shield (Level 2)]
“Whoa, Robert, what is this?” Oswin asked in surprise.
“Holy Shield!” Robert called back from across the stable. “Alice, try slapping Oswin!”
Alice turned from tightening Persephani’s straps, glanced at the glowing enchanter, wound up her arm, and punched him square across the jaw. Oswin spun from the blow and crashed into a water trough.
“I said slap, Alice!”
“What?” she shouted, confused. “I thought you said punch! The shield barely did anything!” She hurried to pull the unconscious enchanter out of the trough as Robert rushed over and cast a quick heal. Oswin gasped awake, rubbing his face as water poured off it.
Varg was laughing loudly by Killer, the sound echoing through the stable.
“Alright,” Varg said, still catching his breath from the laughter, “as soon as we get out of this cursed city, we’re stopping somewhere to train. Your new skills are useless at low level.”
As Alice helped Oswin dry off with a horse blanket she’d pulled from the stable wall, Robert apologized to everyone one last time before returning to his bench to finish what he’d started. He had leveled six times and still had attribute points to allocate before they departed.
[Current Stats]
Name: Robert Ford
Strength: 14
Constitution: 9
Dexterity: 8
Intelligence: 11
Wisdom: 21
Inspecting his current stats, Robert noted that his equipment filled some of the gaps in his attribute spread, but he still felt the need to balance himself out more. More Constitution for endurance and health... more Dexterity for agility, he thought. If I’m going to survive bigger raids and their traps, I’ll need to be both tougher and quicker than I’ve been. He wouldn’t have made it through the climb trap in the raid if Varg hadn’t pulled him to safety, he thought grimly.
He focused his mind and made his selections, placing one point into Constitution, two into Dexterity, one into Intelligence, and two into Wisdom to further strengthen his cleric spells. The rush of power flowed through him as the green script updated before his eyes.
[Current Stats]
Name: Robert Ford
Strength: 14
Constitution: 10
Dexterity: 10
Intelligence: 12
Wisdom: 23
Nothing below 10 anymore, at least, Robert thought.
With his attributes set, he opened his quest menu, realizing he hadn’t checked it since Alice completed the travelers’ quest that had brought them to Stormskeep.
[System: A world level-up has occurred. Previous unselected quest options have been invalidated. New Fate Quests will be assigned based on the increased power scaling of World Level 2.]
[System: Fate Quest roll in progress...]
[Fate Quests Allocated - Select One Below]
[Quest 1]
Name: The Player Killer
Rarity: Rare Quest
Objective: Slay another player character in combat.
Reward: XP, The Hour Unspent +5 days
[Quest 2]
Name: The Swamp Golem
Rarity: Rare Quest
Objective: Find and slay a swamp golem.
Reward: XP, The Hour Unspent +2 days
[Quest 3]
Name: The Master Fisherman
Rarity: Mythic Quest
Objective: Catch the Leviathan from the Lake of Shadows.
Reward: XP, The Hour Unspent +20 day, Random Skill Allocation +1
“Everyone, check your quests!” Robert called out as the green script still filled his vision. “Any previous selections are void because of the world level-up.”
“Gods, man, I had some good ones lined up!” Varg shouted back, clearly annoyed by the news.
Robert returned his attention to his quests. I will not become a common murderer, he thought, looking at the first option in disgust. Trading the lives of others for more time on this world... that’s not a path I’ll ever take.
The mythic quest surprised him. He had never received one before. The rewards were tempting, exceptional even, but the idea of taking on such a grand task so soon after a raid that had nearly killed them all felt reckless.
“What do you all say we take something easier this time?” Robert asked. “After what we just went through, I think we’ve earned it.”
The rest agreed with Robert’s suggestion, and they spent the next hour resting and discussing which of their quests would best suit the journey ahead. In the end, they all felt it was wiser to travel north, away from the direction the Orc airships had flown. Wherever those vessels had come from, Robert had no desire to find out.
“The Swamp Golem it is, then,” Robert said to the party as they finished loading their gear onto the mounts.
Robert climbed onto Carrot, and Oswin swung up behind him. Ugh, we really need another mount, he thought. Maybe Alice would let the enchanter ride with her... but he decided against making the awkward request for now.
With their party ready, they rode out of the stable in single file, Varg in the lead, Robert and Oswin in the center, and Alice covering the rear.
“Too bad Robert killed the blacksmith with his spell,” Varg said, holding the enchanted ruby from the raid up to the sunlight as they passed through the stable gates. “Now we’ll have to find another crafter who can imbue these gems.”
“Varg!” Alice shouted from behind.
“Oh, right,” Varg said quickly. “I mean, surely the blacksmith would have died regardless. He was old, was he not?”
“Maybe we can change the subject,” Robert said, shaking his head.
As the group left the stable path and turned back toward the main street of the city, they came upon Thorros, Morric, and Billy Stonehands standing at the base of the white steps, surveying the devastation.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Billy Stonehands growled.
“North,” Varg barked back, “away from your rotted breath, rat.”
“Not yet, you aren’t. You owe the king a portion of the loot from your raid rewards,” Billy hissed, baring his yellowed teeth.
Robert glanced toward Thorros, who stood silently beside them, gazing out across the ruined city he had claimed as his own after the late King Henry fell to the great Felinoid beast within the raid dungeon.
“Hah!” Varg barked. “Thorros, if you want my loot, you can come and get it yourself!” he shouted toward the burly king, who now wore his red royal robe over his bare chest, though his crown was still missing.
“My Lord,” Morric said, turning to Thorros, “they did help save the keep. Perhaps we can consider that debt paid in full.”
Billy sneered at the suggestion, his lips curling, but he said nothing.
Morric looked terrible, Robert thought. His chain armor and white tabard were in tatters, his shield was gone, and the bags under his eyes were more swollen than before. The man seemed to have aged twenty years since the start of the raid. I hope the knight can find some peace in this awful world, Robert thought, though I doubt it will ever grant him such mercy.
“Go,” Thorros said, still staring down the main street of the once-beautiful city.
Varg spat on the stone floor in front of the king as he trotted Killer past him. “Thanks for the permission,” he laughed.
Robert followed on Carrot in silence, not wanting to stretch out the uneasy farewell any longer.
“Healer!” Thorros called after them as they made their way down the rubble-strewn road of Stormskeep’s main street. “If it’s the northern swamplands you intend to cross, beware the Baron of Blackfen. Every collector I’ve sent that way has failed to return. And something tells me the Swamp Baron will not forget a name like Ford, even if you share no blood with the red-haired butcher.”
Robert sighed at the thought of Merelda, then nodded back to the king, who raised a single hand in a silent farewell.
